


retreat

by liarouge



Category: Rune Factory 2: A Fantasy Harvest Moon
Genre: F/M, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liarouge/pseuds/liarouge
Summary: Parties are tiring, and they need some relief.
Relationships: Barrett/Dorothy (Rune Factory)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	retreat

On the day of Max and Julia's wedding, everyone attends their reception over in the De Sainte-Coquille's grand mansion. The foyer is packed with not only the people of Alvarna, but also the De Sainte-Coquilles that had gathered from all over Norad to celebrate their relative's wedding. After a couple of hours surrounded by noise, music, and a hell lot of personalities he could only sum up as just plain odd, Barrett's had enough.

He breaks away from talking with the other village guys, seeks out his wife in the crowd, bumping a couple of shoulders, and then he finds her.

Dorothy, alone, in the shadow of the staircase.

For him, everybody else falls away at that moment, and in the foyer of the mansion, there's only his wife.

She lifts her head, and they make eye contact. He smiles.

He goes over to her, gets his frame shielding her from everyone else's view. He rests his lips against her cheek. “Tired?” Dorothy is certainly happy to celebrate her best friend's wedding, but he can see how all the socializing is getting to her. A weary smile comes to her face, and she nods before leaning her head against his shoulder. His hand goes to the small of her back, rubs in circles.

His eyes glance around to the side until he sees the discreet, small bathroom they're standing near. He makes a gesture to get Dorothy's attention, and then he leads her over. Before he shuts the bathroom door, he sees everyone absorbed in their conversations and their dances as the band plays, and he knows they won't be missed.

Barrett locks the door and turns to his wife leaning back against the wall. He walks over to her, takes her chin in his hand. Her eyes up at him, heavy and fatigued, and flushed cheeks. Makes him smile again, makes him kiss her, gentle. He tastes wine and sweet and her sigh into his mouth as her shoulders relax and his do too.

He pulls away to see her staring at him with love.

They stay like that until Barrett asks, “Think we can go home by now?”

“Mm… well, I… I think… Julia wants me to stay more… until the party's almost over…I-it seems like it's going to go for a while…”

Cheers and rhythmic claps erupt outside as the music picked up into a lively tempo, and he imagines Max twirling his bride in the air to the applause.

“Tch.” Barrett shakes his head.

She just giggles, runs her hands over the front of his black jacket, “Besides… I still want to see you in your suit a little longer…”

His face warms, certainly in part to the feel of his wife's hands on him. He adjusts his bandana, the one part of his outfit he wouldn't compromise on, despite Max's griping. “Alright, alright… I'm not gonna complain about seeing you in this dress some more, either.”

Dorothy blushes, her hands fiddling with the ponytail draped over her shoulder. Barrett looks over the halter dress she's wearing, the color a dark and earthy green. She's embarrassed about wearing anything shoulderless, but Rosalind and Julia had insisted she looked amazing in it. He has to agree, a silent thanks within him, because he can't deny that the sight of her bare shoulders make him feel a way.

“Let's… at least hang out here for a bit.” He sighs, rubbing his eyes. “I swear, seeing Herman and all those other Sainte-Coquilles heads in the same room's got my eyes out of whack.”

Dorothy stifles a laugh, with little success, and he grins.

“You feel like dancing again?”

She quickly shakes her head no. “I-It was fun… but…” They already had their obligatory dance where they stuck close and swayed to the music like they knew what they were doing.

“At least we weren't the center of attention this time.” He knows they're both remembering their own first dance as husband and wife. It was absolutely mortifying to have the whole town watching their clumsy steps, but they got through it by ignoring everything outside of the two of them.

“Still remember your old man and Douglas taking the show after a few drinks,” Barrett says in a low voice and is pleased when a laugh bubbles out of her, the light and refreshed sound of it softening him. Maybe he's a little fuzzy from the wine and the sound of too many people's voices meshing together, but god at that moment, he wants nothing but her, all to himself.

Barrett kisses her again. His ears block out the background noise, and it's only the sound of her breathing, of his, of their lips as they meet and part. He can feel how the exhaustion slowly drains away from both of them and fatigue fades into hunger as his body presses hers flush against the wall.

When he pulls away, he looks down at her face. Her hands are clutching the front of his suit. Whatever complaints he has about dressing fancy are mitigated by the flushed face and glassy eyes his wife's giving him. How badly he wants to be home, get her out of her dress, and push her onto their bed, burying himself deep inside her.

Fuck, why wait until they get home?

Barrett leans his head towards her neck, takes a long, deep whiff of the perfume Dorothy has on, and he feels her tense under him, holding her breath. He smirks, before his lips meet her skin and suck lightly, drawing a gasp from her throat.

“B-Barrett.”

He has the vague sense of hearing the music playing outside, strings and all that, he doesn't know or care, underneath the laughter and talk, but shit doesn't matter—in here, it's only her breathing, her voice in his ear, calling his name. Only his name. He pecks a trail of kisses on her neck, the way he knows makes her melt in his arms.

“Barrett… Barrett.”

“What?”

“W-We're in… we're in s-someone else's house, a-and--” Her voice hitches into another gasp when his mouth finds her earlobe and bites lightly.

“And?”

“U-Umm, w-we… we really, shouldn't… shouldn't do…”

The way he chuckles is dark, and a moan leaks out of her.

“Shouldn't do what?”

She refuses to look him in the eyes, just presses her lips shut with a deep red spreading over her cheeks.

“I won't know what you mean if you don't tell me,” he says. His hand goes to her chest, and Dorothy's hands stop it in place. Her eyes swim around anxiously.

“Th-there are a lot of people h-here.”

He scoffs. “What, you think they even notice we're gone?”

“U-umm, I… Wh-what if someone… n-needs to use the bathroom?”

“What are they going to do, break down the door?”

A silly smile tugs at her mouth before she quietly says, “W-well… maybe if it's Father, or even… Douglas?”

A cackle jumps out of him before he can stop it, and she's laughing too. “ _Dammit_ , no. Don't make me think about that.”

When they do reach the point of silence again, it's quickly broken by a laugh sneaking out of one of them. Barrett's head rests on her shoulder as he tries to stop his snickering, and it takes them a while before Barrett closes the distance between their lips once again. His palm travels up her spine, guiding the way she arches against him. The white noise of the party continues outside, and he hopes everyone's so wrapped up in the dancing that they won't take a damn step towards the door.

His face is flushed like hers as they share their heated breaths and Dorothy's fervor gradually rises to match his. If there's one touch that drives him wild, it's her hand on the side of his neck, the warmth of his blood rushing under her palm. A shift of her hand along his neck, and his pulse is under her thumb. His throat rumbles with a low growl as he continues to kiss her, his tongue insistent in her mouth.

“Mm… Did you… drink a lot…?”

“Not that much,” he mumbles against her lips, “Sainte-Coquilles… got some strong shit.”

She's teasing him when she says, “Are you sure you're not a little tipsy?”

“Please, I am _very_ aware of what I'm doing right now. Why, what about you?”

“I-I didn't… have much…” His lips find the spot on her neck, below her ear, where she's ticklish and she's squirming and lets some giggles slip out, which draws a laugh from him.

He craves the feel of a silk-soft nipple on his tongue, but her dress and corset are in the way. Barrett had helped her tie up the back of her corset, and when she turned around to shyly ask how it looked, it took maybe all of his restraint to not jump her right then, party be damned. He'd have to take his time undoing it when they get home.

“Hold your dress up.”

Dorothy stands still, flustered at the sudden command. She takes a moment before bending forward to gather the front of her dress and holds it around her waist, milk white legs bare.

He gets his fingers just under the hem of her panties. The way Dorothy looks away, face red with shame and eyes shut tight, tells him he'll find what he's looking for. When his hand slips deeper, he finds it, the slickness pooled between her legs. His face breaks into a wolf grin.

“Well.” His whisper in her ear instantly sends a shiver down her back. Dorothy bites her lip, but the trace of a whimper escapes her.

“You just like making a fuss.” He smirks. “It adds to it for you, doesn't it?” She gasps when his finger slides over her clit.

“B-Barrett…”

He grasps her firmly between her thighs. “You know, it takes me just a _little_ more work than this to get you like this at home.”

“A-Ah…”

Barrett takes his hand out and gets on his knees. His hands take hold of the simple white panties she has on and drag them down to her ankles. He takes the back of her knees and pulls them apart, and his head dives between wide, lush thighs.

He doesn't go right to where she's waiting for his mouth. Drags his lips across her inner thigh, sucks on delicate flesh, his kisses inching closer and closer to her heat. He touches a fingertip to her clit. Just gives it a slow rub until he hears the noise of agony from her.

“B-Barrett, Barrett, pl-please.”

He laughs under his breath, before finally putting his mouth on her.

Her legs freeze up at the contact. Barrett's tongue traces her lips in slow strokes. His hands travel up the back of her thighs to her asscheeks, squeeze them, plump and full in his hands.

He loves how much it drives her crazy when he takes his time to work her up. His tongue swipes her clit. His hand fumbles down to his fly, unzips it so he can pull out the black, smooth shaft he has tucked away in his pants. He digs down under his harness to find himself drenched and aching. For all the teasing he's giving her about getting hot and bothered, he's not fucking better.

He takes his hand out of his pants, brings his wet fingers to her entrance. Dorothy braces herself, and he goes slowly, pushes two of his fingers in— _fuck_ she's tight and hot.

He pauses before settling into a steady rhythm of push and pull. His tongue works on her clit with gentle, short strokes as she throbs. He carefully pushes another finger inside her. Her thighs are quivering on either side of him as he spreads them farther and her back inches down the wall. His fingers start to quicken, and Dorothy's hips rock, pushing herself onto him, deeper, deeper, desperate.

“Barrett, please, _please_.”

Her skirt's starting to drape over his head as her legs tremble. Barrett knows she's reaching the edge when her hand reaches under her skirt and buries itself in his hair, squeezing his scalp.

His tongue stops, and his energy is going into his fingers pushing faster, faster, until a cry slips out of her. Her voice clips _oh, oh, Barrett, please,_ _more_. He rubs into that one sweet spot, thoroughly, makes her insides twist as she lets out an agonized, ecstatic noise.

“-- _Ah_!”

Her body seizes as her release crashes down her in waves.

He hears his ragged breathing, as it takes its time now that he has air. Barrett slowly withdraws his fingers, wipes them on the inside of her wet thighs. He licks his lips, looking up at his red and breathless wife and throws her a shit-eating grin before standing up.

Dorothy lets out a squeak upon seeing his cock out.

“O-Oh, Barrett, you wore that _here…_?”

He shrugs a shoulder, “Figured I'd get bored. Thought I might wanna fuck my wife instead.”

Barrett traps her against the wall, his hands next to either side of her head, and he leans in to kiss her open mouth. When he pulls away, he observes the rise and fall of her chest, the rhythm occasionally interrupted by a lingering spasm. The deep red color of her eyes is hazy.

“You don't want to go back out yet,” he says.

She doesn't say anything, gulps, before her mouth drops back to its panting.

He kisses her jaw, “You want more.”

Dorothy bites her lip to hold back a whine. Barrett whispers in her ear, “Turn around.”

She barely has words to speak, but his hands on her hips guide her until she faces the wall and places her hands on the surface.

Barrett hikes her dress up. His finger gives her wet pussy a light stroke, and it twitches under his touch.

“You tell me. You wanna go back outside? Or,” Barrett leans in, and he growls in her ear, “you want me to fuck you against the wall.”

Her breath shudders. His hands casually cup her chest. Barrett rests his chin on her shoulder, and that's when she looks to him and, just above a whisper, “Pl-please… be fast…”

\- - -

“Are you still mad?”

Dorothy's back is to him, but he doesn't need to see her face to know she's pouting. He drops a kiss on the nape of her neck, makes her shoulders scrunch up, a quiet noise from her mouth. He traces the mark he left on her shoulder from when his teeth sunk into her skin as he held her hips and railed her from behind.

Barrett whispers in her ear, “' _It's a rash'.”_ And bursts out laughing when she makes a strangled noise in her throat.

“I-It's not funny…”

When they left the bathroom, they casually stood around by the wall when Ray approached them for a respite from the crowd. A minute into easygoing talk and Ray had his concerned look drawn onto his face when he asked Dorothy if her shoulder was okay. When Dorothy touched her shoulder where Ray was looking and the look of realization and horror formed on her face, her mouth stammered out incoherencies until finally saying, _I-_ _I-_ _It's a rash!_

Confused, Ray had nodded slowly. He gave Barrett a subtle _look_ , to which Barrett responded with a shrug. Ray was nice in that he knew to let the subject drop, and he went back to his wife. Barrett took off his suit jacket and left it draped over Dorothy's shoulders for the rest of the party.

“Y-You… didn't t-tell me it was there…”

“And you didn't even notice when you were fixing up your hair in the mirror,” he murmurs against her skin, his hands squeezing the round of chub on her belly, his comfort spot to touch. He smirks, “Was it _that_ good? You couldn't think straight afterwards?”

Her head lowers more, shoulders drawn up, and he chuckles. His hands move up to get a good handful of her tits and make her arch her back as she squirms under his touch. She grabs his hands and takes them off her, escaping his hold as she flops onto her side of the bed, looking up at him with a sulky glare sorely lacking in any intimidation.

Barrett gives her a lopsided smile as he gets onto his side, facing her. He cups her cheek and watches as her face reluctantly softens.

“…Well? Did it feel good? 'Cause…” Barrett exhales, “I mean… fuck, I don't regret it.”

They hold each other's gaze for a while, eyes drooping from tiredness.

“I… didn't dislike it…” she murmurs.

“I know.”

Dorothy makes an indignant sound, garnering a chuckle from him. She absently strokes the sheets.

“You know, how… being around s-so many people… so much talking, and you just… feel very… tense? And anxious and tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Wh-when we were, umm… in there… it kinda felt like it was our own world, away from… everyone else, and… I… I liked that, a lot.” She giggles. “Our… secret.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

Her body inches closer until she's snuggled up against him.

Barrett nuzzles her forehead. He laughs under his breath. “Perv. You liked getting fucked in someone else's house.”

“St-stop it!”

**Author's Note:**

> 1) merry chrysler  
> 2) being self-indulgent with writing otp content is always good  
> 3) thank you to the best friend for helping me look this fic over and smooth it out! ♡


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